In light of some recent Twitter chatter, I decided it was a good time to dust off this four-year-old post…
No, no, it’s true. The Sexsquatch is real…
Not that I doubted it for even a moment. (Now, working backward from Rule 34, there is a powerful argument for the existence of the sasquatch.) You can read about the bigfoot-themed erotica phenomenon here and here. Also from that first link:
“Current titles on Amazon — most of which were not written by Wade —include Ravaged by the Hydra, Mounted by the Gryphon, Frankenstein’s B*tch, Taken By Pirates, Taken by the Tentacle Monsters, Fertilized in Space, Sex With My Husband’s Anatomically Correct Robot, and the conversely vague yet direct Gang Banged by Mysterious Monsters in the Woods.”
Monster-porn is what’s up. This woman Wade claims to rake in thousands of dollars each month. Her 16-book epic Cum for Bigfoot (recently re-titled Moan for Bigfoot because apparently someone at Amazon thinks that makes some kind of difference) has made her famous, at least temporarily.
I think that’s fucking awesome.
I have no idea if Wade (not her real name) is genuinely interested in sexual experimentation with Bigfoot. I have not spoken to her, and cannot answer whether she would settle for a Yeti.
I’d lean towards not. Seems more like here is a person who looked at the world and thought “I can sell them this.” Someone who noted the success of things like Twilight and subsequently Fifty Shades of Gray and thought, “Nah. I got this.” Someone who then took that train of thought straight over the cliffs which overlook Crazytown.
I like that in a writer, the willingness to take a concept somewhere so extreme it defies any serious contemplation. And, for me at least, sex-with-bigfoot defies serious contemplation. Yet … Thousands of Dollars … Each Month.
And the excerpts I’ve found from the text make it explicitly clear what sort of writing you will find in Cum For Bigfoot. I can’t help but wonder about sales percentages. Who’s buying these books for the sheer laugh of it? And who’s buying them because they find themselves genuinely aroused?
I picture a group of college kids sitting around stoned in a dorm room, flicking through Cum For Bigfoot in search of the craziest, raunchiest passages to read aloud and cackle over. Yet I also picture lonely souls curled up on the couch with a bottle of red and another frozen dinner and maybe later lying in bed imagining hirsute hands running over their bodies…
Of the other titles mentioned above, I can discount the hydra and tentacle monsters as mere tentacle porn … and the gryphon as a westernized example of the same sort of deal. Frankenstein and the pirates are hardly new territory. And, as someone who has written a sex scene involving a robot, that one particular example strikes an unsettlingly close note for me.
But Sasquatch? That’s burrowing deep, friends and neighbors. I picture Sasquatch rutting like a beast while mournful banjos twang in the distance. It’s twilight on the mountain, violent romance among the lonely pines.
It’s disturbing and primordial and unspeakably hairy, and no doubt deeply appealing to some people.
I wonder if we’ll see an increase in “sightings” as certain people go out looking for Bigfoot as if they were trolling the bar scene.
If the Sasquatch is out there, we’ll find these people dead in the woods. And just maybe they’ll have been ravished.
If you clicked either of those links above, you probably noted the existence of Dinosaur Erotica as well. “Veloci-rapture” might just be my new favorite word.
EDIT (2/12/2014):
John A. Underwood 